


you make a fine shrine

by niffin



Series: foolish devouring things [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Acephobia, Canon Asexual Character, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Meld, Misuse of Beholding Powers, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, S3 spoilers, Trans Character, Trans Jonathan Sims, Transphobia, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffin/pseuds/niffin
Summary: Elias only Knows truths, and can only make people Know true things. But every mind is primed to accept some assertions more easily than others, and most of the time all it takes is simple manipulation to change someone’s perception in such a way that subjective impressions feel like objective reality. Jon is afraid of himself. Jon believes that Elias has answers. Of course he will provide some.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Series: foolish devouring things [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600744
Comments: 14
Kudos: 129





	you make a fine shrine

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [watching me is like watching the fire take your eyes from you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679888/).
> 
> [tumblr link](https://niffin.tumblr.com/post/190230942408/you-make-a-fine-shrine-fandom-the-magnus-archives/)
> 
> Heed the tags and archive warnings.

Elias watches his Archivist avoid the Institute for almost a week after they consummated their sacrament. Jonathan fled back to his college friend's flat and promptly got into a row with her over his disappearance, and injuries. After soothing Ms. Barker with enough of the truth to make himself feel better and secure her trust and assistance, he spent a total of fourteen hours over multiple days while she was absent cradling her cat and hyperventilating. He made frantic, furtive doctor's appointments, where he adamantly denied any recent trauma to several concerned medical practitioners. Elias thinks disapprovingly that he'll sicken himself with starvation, particularly after his intense exertion in their last interaction. He's ignoring how statements have become a physical need, and not just an obsession. It does make it simple to ensure he'll return; all Elias has to do is make sure no one thinks to smuggle him any, and wait. 

He's enjoying a nightcap at home when he Sees that the prodigal son has decided to return. When Jon finally arrives at the Institute, skulking through disused corridors towards the Archives, he finds Elias awaiting him, settled comfortably in one of the dilapidated sofas his archival staff refuse to upgrade. 

Ice seizes his Archivist's heart and surges through his veins, locking him in place. Elias savors it. His fear is… unparalleled, complex and heady, imprinted by so many powers and, of course, by Elias himself. 

Elias holds out a thin sheaf of papers. "I think you'll find Lester Chang's statement will help clarify your next move. But you seem unwell, Jonathan - perhaps you ought to get some rest before you record this one?"

He looks wan, enervated. Elias Knows he hadn't slept for over a day before his deprivation outweighed his dread. He Knows the adrenaline pumping through Jon won't compensate for the exhaustion and starvation. Elias anticipates seeing what he will do.

Jon mumbles hoarsely, "I don't want it." But his eyes fixate on the statement, and he unconsciously licks his lips. He's gorgeous. 

"Then what did you come here for, Archivist? The pleasure of my company?" 

Elias hardly has to try to provoke Jon - it's wonderful how much sheer stubbornness motivates him. He braces himself against the doorway, shaking his head, a hiss of disgusted laughter escaping his gritted teeth. "You are... a nasty piece of work, and I don't want anything you have to give me -"

Elias smiles. "You will." A flicker of fury in Jon's eyes. "Do you know why? Why don't you ask me?"

Jon senses the trap closing around him but obstinately remains silent. Elias feels a swell of adoration for that battered pride. "This statement has the lead you're searching for. I'm sure there are others in the Archive that could give you the information you need, but you don't have the luxury of a leisurely search. And all you have to do… is cooperate."

Elias places it down on an end table, watching Jon's desperation build. Jon can't formulate an argument and they both know it. Surrender only slightly softens the tense lines of Jon's body; the first halting step is the hardest, but soon enough he's standing just outside arm's reach swaying with need. Elias is suffused with delight. 

As Jonathan takes that last step into range, Elias stands. Cups his face to pull him closer, runs his thumb tenderly over chapped lips and fingertips over the pockmarks the worms left in Jon's flesh. Jon asks, "Am I… Elias, am I still human?" There's no power behind it, weak as Jon is, but Elias appreciates the attempt.

Elias only Knows truths, and can only make people Know true things. But every mind is primed to accept some assertions more easily than others, and most of the time all it takes is simple manipulation to change someone’s perception in such a way that subjective impressions feel like objective reality. Jon is afraid of himself. Jon believes that Elias has answers. Of course he will provide some. 

"What does human even mean? You’ll fool those untouched, those who want to believe otherwise." Bleakest despair engulfs him. 

"You're marked. Damaged, Jonathan. Since long before you arrived here. Your temperament, your body, your inability to love." Hot shame in his stomach. 

"But I know all of you, the flaws and the inhumanity. You're mine, and I am refining you. Just do what you need to, and you will be… perfect." He implants in Jon's mind what he's feeling - the devotion, the reverence. Then he rips it away. Jon gasps, eyes flying open, and clutches at Elias' suit, presses close, heart to heart. Oh, he still thinks Elias is an amoral abomination, but who else could love a monster like him?

Jon's face twists as he comes to the same conclusion. "Enough," he says hoarsely. "I'm cooperating, aren't I?" But he's thinking about how he could still leave with his dignity intact; how gratifying it would feel to wrap his hands around Elias' throat, the rest of the Institute's lives be damned. 

His eyes flick towards the statement, enticing and so close. Then he grips Elias' clothes tighter; his hands shake. He leans in. Presses their mouths together. Elias smiles. 

He kisses Jon hard, devouring him and his wordless protests. Jon doesn't know how to reciprocate, especially when Elias nips at his lower lip and pushes his tongue into his mouth. It's taking everything he has not to flinch away, not to resist. 

Elias retreats an inch and murmurs, "Good boy. Let's do this properly." He strokes Jon's shoulder, lightly tugs at his pullover. "Off with this."

Jon averts his eyes. Takes it off, then, reluctantly, his trousers too. He shivers under the weight of Elias' gaze. Ms. Barker has forced some much needed nourishment on him, and he's not nearly as scrawny as he was when Elias took the metal pipe he'd been struggling with and smashed Leitner's head in. Truly, if Detective Tonner hadn't been so consumed by the Hunt, she'd have realized that regardless of his motives, he wasn't physically capable of it. And as it stands, his Archivist has too strong a belief in the value of human life, especially his friends'. Elias touches a fingertip to his chest where that tender heart races. Jon thinks uncontrollably of sharpened knives and bloody altars, then of cold earth and his own blunt pocket knife at his throat when Elias cradles the side of his neck where Alice bruised him, now yellowed and faded. 

"Hush. You've become too precious for that, Archivist." Elias shrugs off his coat, takes hold of Jon's hand, and places it on his own chest where his heart swells with pride and tender devotion. "Can you feel it?" 

There's a part of Jon that wants to feel it. He tells himself he doesn't, that he's being coerced, even as his fingers fumble at Elias' shirt buttons. Elias runs his hands over Jon's chest and slender waist, and marks how his touch incites Jon to speed up, trying to get it all over with. 

Elias tosses his shirt to the side and pulls Jon into his lap. He's hot against the climate controlled air of the archive, but Jon is the one who acts like he's been burned when their skin touch. He grabs Jon's elbow to hold him, warn him. "Properly, Jonathan. You can make this good."

Jon stares at him, trying to calculate how much effort Elias will deem proper, how much will get him that statement and an escape with minimal damage. He decides not to leave his lap, and as Elias wraps his arms around him, he slowly spreads his fingers over Elias' chest. Jon's feather light touch traces the lines of the stylized tattooed eyes across it, and slips lower over the intricate geometry on Elias' ribs. For all his claims about his reluctance, the Archivist intently catalogs every detail. 

Jon thinks about kissing him but can't quite make himself do it. He leans forward, hands sliding over Elias' stomach and chest, to put his lips on his jaw instead. Elias obligingly tilts his head back for Jon to kiss down his neck. He stops when he reaches Elias' pulse - opens his mouth over his vulnerable jugular - bites down hard enough to make Elias gasp - releases him immediately. They both know it was an empty threat. It didn't even make Jon feel better; now he's angry with himself for lacking the stomach to go through with it. Elias laughs. How provocative. "If inflicting a little pain helps you, Jon, then I certainly shall not stop you."

The permission, predictably, aggravates Jon. He tenses, won't make eye contact. "Am I making it good for you?" 

Elias smiles. "Yes. But there’s more to do. You’ll have to mind the teeth this time." His Archivist stares a moment, then understands as Elias slowly eases him off his lap, hand on the back of his head pushing him inexorably downward. Jon resists, tightens his nails on Elias’ shoulders, a low growl in his throat. Then obeys. More or less. There’s a little more pressure in his touch, a few scattered begrudging kisses across his skin as Jon slides down between his legs.

He would be hard pressed to accept this level of sloppiness from anyone else. But it doesn't much matter - his Archivist is inexperienced to say the least, and desire renders foreplay nearly unnecessary. He just needs to watch Jon on his knees, shaking as he undoes Elias' trousers, gingerly avoiding touching his cock until he can't anymore, the distress on his face as he fully wraps his hand around it. He glances helplessly at Elias' face and sees no mercy, no reprieve.

Jonathan takes Elias' cock in his mouth. He gags, naturally, merely from the taste and sensation. He barely overpowers the urge to escape, and tears escape his eyes three quarters of the way down his cock, unable to go any further. Unwilling to even try to take Elias down his throat. Next time, perhaps. There's much to teach, all of it gratifying. He has different plans for tonight. 

Elias says, "Wrap your hand around what's left." Jon blinks up at him, then complies. "Cover your teeth with your lips, and pull back up." It's exquisitely sensual, the halting movement of his tongue dragging against the underside of his cock, his hand belatedly following and smearing his saliva. "And again." Jon does it again. He tentatively strokes his tongue this time - a quick study, though he nearly chokes and has to pause and take a deep breath. Elias softly murmurs appreciation, says his name tenderly every time he tries something new. His Archivist, so eager to learn. Trying so hard, and being so good. 

He waits until Jon is panicking over the possibility of Elias coming in his mouth (it took him no more than two or three minutes to start thinking about it. His naivete is charming - it's not that he thinks he's good at this, he simply has no idea how long anything would take) to pull him off and to his feet. It hardly makes a difference - now that he's not blindly trying to get through that ordeal, he's consumed with horror he hasn't quite identified yet.

His breath hitches on a sob as Elias kisses him again. Jon jerks away after a second, covering his mouth, sparking the first real irritation of the night. "My mouth, it’s - I know now, I thought it would be better than -"

Elias considers him coolly before relenting. Useful information, that he doesn't need to act on while Jon is being cooperative. He tugs Jon so they're a breath away from each other, just as a reminder that he can, and pulls out a condom. Jon exhales sharply in relief, lashes wet with tears. So as Elias tears the packet open, he says, "How do we ask for what we want, Jon?" 

One of the most fascinating things about Jon is how he struggles to choose between basic self preservation and hostility. For a man with weaker defenses than Elias would like, he's remarkably combative. Many things run through Jon's head: insults, threats, accusations, simple refusal. He looks at Elias rolling on the condom, then at the statement. He closes his eyes. He chooses self preservation. "Please. Elias." A long pause before he resigns himself to saying it all. "Fuck me, Elias. Please."

"Good boy. Keep going." Elias helps him align himself over his cock. His willpower barely overcomes his bone deep revulsion as he haltingly sinks down onto it. The lubricant, minimal as it is, eases his struggle; when he's taken Elias to the base, he thinks vaguely that it doesn't hurt as much as he was afraid it would. He can't decide whether that makes him feel better or worse than their first time. He lifts himself, thighs straining, and sinks back down. His cunt is unbelievably tight and hot, clutching at Elias' cock, and Elias runs a comforting hand over his back, pulls his head down to press a worshipful kiss to his forehead. 

Before Jon can stop himself he leans into the kiss, and that decides it for him: he feels much, much worse. But he says please again, holding Elias' hand to his cheek. Gasps it when Elias grabs his ass to pull him up, and his voice breaks on it when he's slammed back down. When Elias reaches down to roll his cock between his fingers, he thinks better of pulling away after one blinding panic filled moment; then pleads for it to stop, shivering, eyes wide and filled with tears. Elias does not stop. He presses their foreheads together and, ever so gently this time, suffuses Jon's mind with his own escalating ardor. Jon recognizes the intrusion the moment they both hear genuine eagerness in his begging. He swears, hides his face in Elias' neck, his whole body wracked with hard thrusts, and with sobs and unwilling arousal. 

But he doesn't stop asking for it. He even means it, now. Of course it's the path of least resistance to simply submit to whatever demands Elias makes of him; but he pushes the whole length of their bodies together, and tugs on Elias' hair with a quiet, breathy moan. And of course there's a part of him that solely craves the witnessing; but that part is neither entirely foreign or out of his control, and he makes no effort to shut Elias out of his mind. He asks for more, pushes back against Elias' fingers on his cock, because he wants to feel something other than pain and exhaustion, fear and guilt and helplessness. It doesn't matter that the physical sensation of how Elias experiences his pleasure triggers a visceral misery like what Jon felt before his transition, or that sexual arousal, whether his or others', disquiets him, or that the source is almost entirely external. He can deal with that later. He wants to feel good. So Elias takes him over the edge. His orgasm sparks Elias' - then they reverberate inside each other's minds in a fierce detonation that stuns them both with its intensity, leaves them perspiring, trembling, and gasping for air. 

Few things surprise Elias anymore, and so when he recovers, he cradles Jon with real affection. He considers himself profoundly fortunate to have acquired this quarrelsome, unpredictable creature, laying quiet for once, trying to regain his faculties. Soon enough Jon will remember his hunger and what he did to sate it. He will leave, with the statement, seething with fury and the quiet agonizing fear that he deserved it. That if he had been the proper kind of human, who could love people and let them love him, if he hadn't already chosen to change his body as he saw fit, maybe it wouldn't have been so easy for Elias to make him a monster. Elias knows how much damage he's done to Jon's self perception, but even if Jon's pride is crumbling, he will be proud enough for both of them. His greatest achievement. Should Jon survive the next year or so, the world will be pleading for mercy at their feet. And Jon's own pleas will be exclusively reserved for Elias, just like this, forever. 

Jon shifts lethargically, mumbles something that could have been a question. Elias strokes his hair and answers it. "This was love, Jon."

**Author's Note:**

> [RAINN for 24/7 sexual assault hotline/live chat](https://www.rainn.org/)   
>  [Trans Lifeline](https://www.translifeline.org/)   
>  [Trevor Project 24/7 hotline/live chat for LGBTQ individuals](https://www.thetrevorproject.org/)
> 
> question: where do yall go to talk nasty abt tma and can i come


End file.
